


if something's wrong, you can count on me

by luminouspoes (rosesmallow)



Series: in the winter night sky ships are sailing [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AFAB!reader, Angst, Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Reader Needs a Hug, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28250211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesmallow/pseuds/luminouspoes
Summary: Reader waits nervously for her best friend, Poe Dameron, to return to Jakku but as days pass without him, the more she realizes she may never get to see him again - until he turns up bloodied at her door one night.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Series: in the winter night sky ships are sailing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078412
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	if something's wrong, you can count on me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I'll ever be able to write a short Poe fic in my life my god. This fic deals heavily with the aftermath of Poe's torture in The Force Awakens, so have caution. This disaster boy doesn't take good enough care of himself and it kills me. This is loosely a continuation of my [my first fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950465) on here. You don't need to read that one to understand what's going on in this one though! Hope everyone enjoys! <3

You don’t realize how slowly time can pass until Poe leaves. It’s been a week since he left in a nondescript X-Wing to collect BB-8 from Kazuda Xiono on the  _ Colossus,  _ then depart for a mission to Jakku.

Each day moves slower than the last, but time really starts to crawl on the third night, when reports come back that the village Tuanul was destroyed by the First Order. It’s the same village Poe was meant to meet with Lor-San Tekka to retrieve the map to Luke Skywalker. There are no survivors.

On the fifth day, news leaks that the First Order is now looking for two fugitives with a beebee unit. You initially hope that one of the fugitives is Poe, but then Threepio dejectedly rattles off the descriptions of the fugitives, and your heart sinks lower and lower. Neither of them are Poe.

But the droid was unmistakably Beebee-Ate. Every person in the room must’ve shared the same thought at once, a sea of murmurs rushing through the war council in unison. You pick a spot on the wall past General Organa’s head to fixedly stare at. There was no universe where Poe Dameron would let Beebee-Ate be chased so doggedly by the First Order without him, unless — 

Could he really be gone? Was he caught in the destruction of the village? Or had he been captured, then killed? You were spiraling, but you can’t stop yourself, each thought coming quicker than the last. The room is filled with too many people and you need to  _ run  _ — 

“Hope is like the sun.” Leia doesn’t shout, but she might as well have with the way her words shock you back into the present. The way she holds the room is magnetic. “If we only believe in it when we see it, we’ll never make it through the night.”

It isn’t the empty promises or a practiced speech a politician might make to boost morale. It’s the commanding voice of a  _ soldier,  _ someone who understands, and you believe every word she says.

Her eyes find yours in the crowd. You take a step back in surprise, bumping into Paige Tico by accident. The other woman catches you easily as Leia finishes, “Poe will come home to us. I know he will.”

It’s now the seventh day, and you’re struggling to hold on to the hope Leia encouraged you to keep. The medbay is empty, so Kalonia orders you to go get some rest since Poe’s disappearance has been wearing on you.

Instead of immediately going to your quarters, you find yourself on the landing strip, in front of  _ Black One.  _ It’s almost sundown, so there isn’t anyone else around but you. 

You run your hand along the hull, trying to conjure up good memories — like when you first met Poe, that time he went to lean up against a doorway to talk to you but missed and fell, trying to be smooth...the many, many times he followed you around in sickbay, pestering you when you weren’t tending to patients, watching in quiet awe when you were.

“You realize there’s more than one medic in this ‘bay, right? Ones that aren’t juniors and are more experienced?” You asked him one day he came in with a nasty looking blaster wound and asked for you specifically to look him over.

“Yeah, but not all of them are my best friend.” Poe replied with a grin.

Now you’d do anything to see that smile again. 

Your eyes sting and it isn’t from the wind. Using the back of your hands, you angrily wipe away the tears.  _ Hope is like the sun _ . The D’Qar sun is setting now.

You go back inside, numb. 

* * *

You can’t sleep. 

You toss and turn, kick your sheets around your ankles, throw your pillow this way and that, but sleep refuses to come. All you can think about was how quiet the base seems without Poe. It’s still noisy because it’s an operational military base, but there isn’t as much life now.

_ Golden boy of the Resistance. _

He was crucial to this operation, so much more than just an average pilot and soldier. He had the makings of a leader — Leia knew it, Black Squadron knew it, you knew it. In fact, you were pretty sure the only person who didn’t know it was Poe himself.

You kick away the covers, sit up. There’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, you might as well use this restless energy for good use. You’re pulling a jacket on when somebody raps on your door. It’s urgent, but the softness of the knock isn’t right. It’s like whoever’s on the other side is exhausted.

You hurry to the door, lean over to the panel and press the right button. The door slides open with a hiss and you turn back to see who’s on the other side —

And immediately choke on a sob of surprise.

Because Poe Dameron is leaning heavily against your doorway, one arm wrapped around his torso, eyes barely open. “Hey, Y/N. Miss me?”

Before you can even utter a response, he tilts forward on shaky legs. You gasp, clutching him so he doesn’t fall to the floor. Every other emotion in your body switches off as you immediately throw one of his arms around your neck and lead him inside the room despite his protests. You drag him to your bed, which he immediately falls onto with a grunt of pain.

His clothes are dirty and his flight jacket is missing. His dark hair is matted down from sweat and — your heart lurches — blood.

“Poe…” your voice is shaky as you brush trembling fingertips to the side of his head. He flinches at the lightest touch and you freeze, withdrawing your hand, eyes stinging again. “Who did this to you?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, which injury are you referring to?”

You catch his eyes with horror. “How many do you have?”

“No idea,” he admits tiredly, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Feels like a lot.”

You’re in a freefall, every ounce of calm purpose draining out of you in a rush, you’re not just a medic now, you’re a terrified friend. You struggle to catch yourself as his words wash over you.

“You haven’t been to medbay yet?” You demand, feeling a few strands of your hair going gray.

“Don’t have the time, just wanted to see you.” Poe shakes his head, tries to stand up. You shove him back onto the bed. He glares up at you. “I have to report to Leia.”

“The only thing you  _ need  _ to do is get treated!” You retort, sharper than intended. It’s incredible how lifeless the universe seemed without Poe, and how now that you got him back, you kind of want to throttle him for being so infuriatingly stubborn.

“Hey,” Poe says, catching your wrist lightly. “I’m okay.” 

“You’re bleeding.” You point out, trying to rein in the panic that is creeping into your chest. 

“It’s dry.” 

You scoff, turning away from him. Poe’s tendency for the audacious was what made him such a valuable asset to the Resistance, but between that and his commitment to the cause, it led to dangerously low levels of self-preservation. Which you knew better than anyone, as someone who’s treated his injuries plenty of times before. “If you have a debriefing, why’d you stop here?”

You turn to face him, curious of his reaction, but his expression is surprisingly guarded, aside from a false smile. “I told you, I wanted to see you.”

“I know you, Dameron. Your first stop post-mission is always to the General. What aren’t you telling me?”

You’ve spent enough time paying attention to Poe to know when he’s hiding something, particularly when it’s something troubling him. Most people either buy the sarcastic jokes he makes to cover it up or the friendly smile, but you’ve always been too stubborn — and cared too much — to just let things slide. 

Poe pushes himself to his feet and gives a slight shrug, not quite meeting your eyes. “I just… I needed to see you.” 

The word  _ needed _ echoes in your head, your heart traitorously doing a tiny flip in your chest while the rest of you tensed with concern. You take a step closer, reaching out for his hand as you try to catch his gaze but he refuses to meet it. You do notice another cut, just along his cheekbone. “Flyboy...” you whisper sadly, “what did they do to you?”

Poe tugs at the hem of your sweater sleeve. “The First Order found us. Tekka wanted me to run, but my X-Wing was toast and they - the village.” His voice seemed steady on the surface, but you heard the underlying effort it took for him to get the words out. You squeezed his hand sympathetically.

“We heard about the village.”

Poe nodded. “Kaz and I had just found an old settlement the day before, blasted to hell by someone who wanted the people there... _ eradicated.  _ The only thing left was a Tooka doll. I guessed it was the First Order, covering tracks, but then I saw what they did to Tuanul. I couldn’t do anything but  _ watch _ . The village, gone. That -  _ ghoul  _ killed Tekka right in front of me. Then they took me captive.”

“Troopers beat me most of the first night, then the next morning they sent in an interrogation droid to get the information out of me. I wouldn’t break.” There’s a dangerous amount of pride in Poe’s voice at this, but it almost immediately disappears. “So they sent Ren in. Charming guy.”

Then Poe tenses up, his eyes unfocusing. “It was like he -” 

“Like he what, Poe?” You ask as a tear slips down your cheek. Tortured for so long…

“It was like he ripped my head open but he never laid a glove on me. All of my memories, he was there like a ghoul, poisoning them. Demanding to know where the map was. He pulled out all the bad stuff, made me relive every mistake, every failure. Everyone I’ve ever lost - I lost them all over again. Mom’s funeral, Lu’lo, Murran…” 

You feel nauseous. Your vision blurs so badly from tears that you have to blink to see Poe again.

“He knew other stuff too, stuff he didn’t see. He knew about the time I crashed my mom’s A-Wing, the fights I had with my dad, Kijimi. He knew about you, our friendship, how I -” Poe cuts himself off, tries to pull away from you and forgets his numerous injuries: the sudden movement flares something up, and he hisses.

You immediately follow his trajectory, grab onto the hem of his shirt, trying to keep him from doubling over. “We need to get you to the sickbay -” 

“No.”

You try not to growl with frustration. “Poe Dameron, you can’t just come to my door half-dead in the middle of the night and expect me not to do anything. I care about you too much to allow you to -”

“Y/N -”

“Would you just shut up and let me take care of you?” You snap, glaring up at him as you take another step closer. Poe doesn’t even flinch at your tiny outburst, instead he’s searching your face for something.

“You never let me.” Poe says instead, and you’re gobsmacked. 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“C’mon, Y/N. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you just won’t talk about it. You’re exhausted, I can tell.” Poe continues, and looks back at the messy bed, then back at you, taking notice of the dark circles that have found a home under your eyes in the last week. “If I had to guess, you haven’t been sleeping. Why not?”

You sputter indignantly. How could someone so smart also simultaneously miss the obvious? 

“Does it need saying?”

“For me, yeah it does.” He’s so endearingly unaware that your breath catches with a tiny, humorless laugh.

Your face breaks and you know it because your eyes sting and your nose burns as the tears spill over your cheeks. “I thought you were  _ dead _ . My best friend in the world was  _ gone,  _ and I was left in a galaxy on the cusp of war  _ without you _ .” You grab a fistful of his shirt, shoulders shaking, the world disappearing around you for all the tears. You weakly thump your fist against his chest, trying to catch your breath. “I thought -”  _ thump! — “ _ You were -”  _ thump!  _ — “ _ Gone! _ ”

Your voice breaks again and you thump him again. “Don’t you  _ ever _ pull a stunt like this again, I swear to all the stars in the kriffin’ galaxy, I’ll -” you can’t finish the sentence, the words lost in a choked out sob. Your fist goes slack and falls to your side as the grief washes over you.

You feel rather than see Poe pulling you into an embrace. You allow yourself to melt into the hug and weep into his chest as the past week truly starts to set in: the fear, the way you’ve tried to cling to hope despite all the odds, knowing deep down it was probably for naught. The relief of finding Poe at your bedroom door, the anger of what happened to him, the horror of what that monster made him live through.

The tears won’t stop coming.

“Hey, hey —” Poe’s voice is muffled against the crown of your head. “I came back, alright? I’m here.” He pulls back, takes your shaking hand and places your palm against his chest, over his heart, like he knows you need the reassurance. “I’m alive.”

Sure enough, the beat of his heart is enough to ground you back into the present. You take a few shuddering breaths in an attempt to stop your sobs. After a few minutes, you’re finally calm enough to realize the situation you’re now in. Both of you gravitated so close to each other that you’re practically chest to chest, your hand over his heart, with both of his on your waist.

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You whisper, finally getting the courage to look Poe in the face. He looks so sad that you almost want to look away again. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Poe promises quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

You sniffle and quickly dash away a few new stray tears with your other hand. You can’t bring yourself to move your hand away from over his heart. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” You can’t tell if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“It’s not fine. If it was fine, you wouldn’t be crying.”

You bristle, wishing you’d held it together until he left for that debriefing. Now you’re trapped in a hole you dug for yourself, stuck under those soft brown eyes filled with so much concern for you that your heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“You don’t have to be strong for me.”

You flick your eyes up back to his. “I’m not trying to be strong for -”

“Would you just let me take care of you?” Poe plows on, using your own words against you. Most of the fight drains out of you as your heart seizes. There’s too much behind that sentence, too many things you could read into.

Because you’ve let very few people in to truly care for you. And it terrifies you, knowing that you’re on the precipice of letting yourself be cared for by the person who probably matters the most. You swallow and argue, “You have a debriefing, remember?”

“A friend needs me, I can spare a couple of minutes.”

“But not to get your injuries checked.”

“Tell you what, I’ll go to sickbay if you let me take care of you.” 

“That’s a cheap shot.” You mutter with a withering look, wanting this to be over, wishing he would go debrief Leia and forget about you, that you could just act like this never happened, like you hadn’t just cracked your chest open in front of him. You wanted to go back to the easy banter, the synchronization you shared. 

“There’s something you aren’t saying.” Poe says, brushing back a loose strand of your hair. 

You close your eyes. There’s  _ plenty  _ you aren’t saying, and a lot more you’ll likely never say. “I don’t want things to change.” You admit quietly. You don’t feel like fighting anymore. You’re just exhausted.

“Why would they change? No matter what, it’s me and you. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not unless you want me to.” He doesn’t add the more likely possibility that he won’t have a choice but to leave you.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You whisper hoarsely. “You are…” you trail off, focus on the firm drum of his heart still beneath your palm, “You’re an impulsive, audacious, bloody idiot. But you’re  _ my  _ impulsive, audacious, bloody idiot, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever since I joined the Resistance, you’ve been here. You’ve been beside me this whole damn time, and I can’t imagine my life without you. I didn’t realize it until we lost L’ulo — I thought it was you that hadn’t come home, and I was terrified out of my mind…”

You groan and lean into his chest, your cheeks pink, embarrassed by your little speech. “I hate you.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he replies, “That didn’t  _ sound  _ like you hate me.” 

You thump him again.

Poe winces. “Is now a bad time to mention I think one of those injuries is a bruised rib or two?”

“What?” You whirl back immediately, eyes wide. “Poe Dameron, you should have  _ said  _ something, I’ve been putting pressure on it for - Force, I don’t even know how long we’ve been standing here -”

“And I thought you hated me.” Poe asks dryly, popping one eye open. 

“You know what, if you keep this up, I’m never going to open up to you again.” You warn, shoving him down on the bed. You grab your medkit and return to him. 

Poe grimaces. “I was kidding about the ribs.”

“At least let me clean up the blood and close up some of the cuts.”

You stand between his legs as you treat the cut on his cheekbone. It’s small but deep, and you reckon it might scar. There’s no way to be certain though. Once that’s finished, you move away to wet a rag with warm water to begin the process of cleaning up his wound. You work in silence, quietly admiring the fact that for once you have the advantage of being taller than him.

“There, all better.” You announce once the last of the blood’s been washed away. “I can’t check for further injuries with what I have in here, you’ll have to visit the sickbay after your debriefing - and that’s not a suggestion, by the way.”

“Are you going to get some rest now?” Poe asks, ignoring your pointed comment. You dart your eyes away, down to the scrunched up blankets. Your restless energy has died away, but even with sleepiness crawling up at the edges of your consciousness, you aren’t certain if you’ll be able to sleep.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly, smoothing out your sleep shirt. “I probably should, even if it’ll only be a couple of hours. Major Kalonia gave me today off to rest, but I have a shift in the morning.”

“Are there any patients?” 

“Poe, it’s a sickbay. We always have patients, and hopefully by tomorrow morning, you’ll be one.”

“That almost sounds like a threat, Lieutenant.” Poe says, raising an eyebrow.

“It might be, Commander.” You retort with a roll of your eyes. 

“You know, I could probably talk to the Major, tell her you worked a shift tonight so you can get some more sleep.” Poe offers. “Since I’m the reason you’re awake, it’s only fair.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “I don’t know - hey, stop that!” You order with a light smack to his arm when he whips out the loth-cat eyes. Poe leans away from your reach so you can’t smack him again, then stands up, and you’re back to having to look up to see him in the eye.

His voice goes soft when he puts his hands on your arms. “C’mon, Y/N. Let me do this for you, alright?” 

You weigh your options for a moment, but you already know your decision is made. You want nothing more than to curl up in bed for a good night’s sleep now that you know your best friend is alive. “Alright,” you whisper, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. 

“Thank you. Let’s get you into bed, huh?” Without further ado, Poe’s leading you back to the bed. “I won’t shove you onto it like you did me, though.”

You’re too tired to shoot a sarcastic comment back, instead, you plop down on the edge of the mattress, then swing your legs up onto it and under the blanket. 

Poe pulls the blanket up over you. Instantly, the coziness is enough to almost lull you to sleep. Your eyes drift shut for a second, but you can still sense Poe hanging at the edge of the bed, so you open one eye to peer up at him and find something indecipherable written across his handsome features. “What’s the matter?”

“Huh? Nothing -” Poe shakes his head, a loose curl falling over his forehead. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

You reach out for his hand and he takes yours, lacing your fingers together. “Thank you for exactly the same,” you tell him sincerely. Watching him, you wish you could ask him to stay until you fall asleep, just so you can keep him a little bit longer, but you know he has to go.


End file.
